


If the Galaxy was Ending

by HixyStix



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Angst and Feels, Breakup Fic, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Kallus POV, M/M, Post-Breakup Hookups
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:13:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26119357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HixyStix/pseuds/HixyStix
Summary: At some point, they had to admit to themselves that things weren't working out.And then admit that to each other, parting ways.Years later, however, they wonder if their reasons were all that sound in the first place.
Relationships: Alexsandr Kallus/Garazeb "Zeb" Orrelios
Comments: 62
Kudos: 173





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So y’all know how it goes: listen to an angsty song, get a plot bunny, start writing, get bullied until you end it happily.
> 
> Thank you to sempaiko and vintaged for helping me look over this chapter and (in vintaged's case) pushing me to publish in chapters rather than as a one-shot.

Mako-Ta Base was never quiet. The space station was filled with the majority of the Rebellion’s personnel, all trying to do their assigned jobs while the sounds of machinery reverberated in the walls. It was a far cry from the peaceful Yavin IV base they’d abandoned a year before.

The loud base didn’t make for good sleep and perhaps that was why Alexsandr Kallus was so on edge. Why he’d snapped off a smart remark and offended his lover. Why his meager attempts to apologize were going so terribly, terribly wrong.

Why he couldn’t bring himself to care as much as he should.

“Zeb,” he said, with more bitterness than he ought to have allowed, “you’re _never here_. Don’t act like you know what my job entails.”

Green eyes flashed angrily. “If I’m never here, it’s because _you_ keep sending the _Ghost_ on missions.”

Kallus looked away, studying the busy mess hall so that he didn’t have to meet Zeb’s glare. This conversation had been bubbling under the surface for weeks – no, _months_ – and while it probably needed to happen, it ought to happen in private. Not out in the open; the Rebellion fomented so much gossip on its own that Kallus hated to add to it. Hated to be the topic of it.

“It’s not _me_ , Garazeb,” he said coolly. “It’s the _Intelligence_ _service_. If you recall, there are people besides me working there. You know I’m a captain working under a general; I don’t get to make final decisions.”

The look Zeb gave him was subtle but dangerous, reminding Kallus yet again that among the sentient species in the galaxy, lasat were apex predators. Even if Zeb hadn’t threatened Kallus since he became Fulcrum all those years ago, he was still capable of crushing Kallus’s head if he wanted – or of killing him much slower and more painfully.

“I know enough,” Zeb said, a low growl in his voice as he picked up his original line of conversation. “I don’t like it, Kal. I don’t like you behaving this way. You’re changing back into an Imperial and I don’t know how to stop you.”

Kallus’s eyes narrowed. “I am _not_ Imperial anymore. I am doing exactly what is necessary to keep this Rebellion afloat; nothing more and nothing less. If you can’t understand why I have to do what I do, Zeb, then the problem is not mine.”

Zeb leaned back a little. “Kal, your last mission was _assassination_ and you killed both the moff and the informant who got you into her house. One of _our_ spies. A Rebel.”

Put like that, it _did_ sound less than savory. Kallus knew his superiors counted the mission as a success, though, so he had to as well. “I did what I had to do,” Kallus said, seething a little, trying to keep his voice down. “I did what I was _told_ to do.”

Disappointment filled Zeb’s face and voice, slicing deeper than any amount of anger would have. “I thought you were better than this. I thought you had a conscience. I believed in you but right now?” He sighed. “I don’t know who you are anymore.”

Ice shot through Kallus’s heart at Zeb’s words, to his shame. He’d gathered Zeb felt that way, so his words weren’t a surprise.

Hearing them out loud was. The way they hurt was.

Kallus’s fingers curled into fists, as if he could physically face down Zeb’s disapproval. He couldn’t, however, and he didn’t want to continue their conversation in such a public place. Standing, Kallus forced his voice to be calm. “I have to get back to work. I will see you tonight, Garazeb.”

He waited a moment, steeled to hear a biting comment from Zeb about the unsuitability of his job.

It never came.

“Kal,” Zeb said instead, making him pause as he turned away. Sadness punctuated the lasat’s words. “I still love you.”

Zeb’s admission lingered in Kallus’s mind all afternoon, past a skipped dinnertime and into the evening. 

As even General Draven left his office for the night, Kallus was forced to face up to the fact that he needed to go to Zeb. They needed to finish their conversation.

A conversation that would be damned easier if Garazeb had just kept his mouth shut about love.

Some part of Kallus had been gratified to hear that Zeb still felt that way, but another part saw it as a complication. The part that saw what was coming from kilometers away.

They’d reached the end. Kallus didn’t see a reconciliation happening this time. He wasn’t going to quit doing his job and if Zeb wasn’t going to try to understand… well, Kallus wasn’t going to stop Zeb from leaving. He might even walk away himself if it came to that.

Was Zeb going to try to hold on to him? Try to stay together?

Deep down, Kallus hoped he would. Hoped Zeb would fight for them to work through it. It would be futile, but at least Kallus would _know_ that Zeb felt something for him outside of words.

In the end, though, did feelings matter? When the demands of war were making their lives so incompatible, when either might die on any given day – what good were feelings? What good was the sense of comfort and safety he found in Zeb’s arms when it was all a lie?

Kallus’s eyes burned as he fought back any semblance of emotion. He refused to go meet Zeb with anything but the calmest of demeanors. He wouldn’t talk to Zeb from a place of weakness.

No matter what happened, Kallus wouldn’t be the one walking out of the conversation weeping. He _couldn’t_.

Carefully, he sorted through the datapads on his desk, locking them away for the night, and sent his flimsi notes through the shredder. It only took a few minutes and then there was nothing to stop him from returning to the _Ghost_ and the cabin he shared with Zeb when the Spectres weren’t on missions.

A rare occurrence these days.

Kallus silently made his way through the halls of Mako-Ta Base until he reached the gargantuan main hangar. The _Ghost_ sat near the bay doors, on the far side of the hangar. From a distance, the ship looked small and cozy.

Most of the time, it _was_ a pleasant place. Young Jacen’s presence filled the halls with laughter and Hera was warmly accepting of Kallus and Zeb’s relationship. The only problem with his living arrangements was the cranky lasat likely waiting for him in the common room.

 _No point in delaying this,_ Kallus thought. He ducked his head and made his way toward the ship that would probably soon cease to be his home.

He didn’t make it onto the _Ghost_. As Kallus approached, Zeb stepped out from behind the ramp, arms crossed.

“I wasn’t sure you were going to show up,” Zeb said, his voice betraying the tension he felt.

“I said I would be here tonight,” Kallus said, as calmly as possible. “Or do you not trust my word anymore?”

Zeb’s brow furrowed and for a moment, Kallus thought he might answer in the affirmative. To his relief, Zeb kept silent.

A glance up the ramp showed Kallus that neither Hera nor Rex were eavesdropping, but Zeb motioned for him to follow anyway, stopping underneath the rear hull of the ship where few – if anyone – could hear them.

For a few minutes, they just stood there, staring at each other. Studying Zeb’s face, Kallus was reminded of all the little things he loved about Zeb’s appearance: his soft expressive ears, wide smiles showing off fangs, and eyes so big and green they were like being lost in the Yavin IV jungles, among many other features.

None of those features were currently there, to Kallus’s eyes. Zeb’s ears were low and tense, his eyes narrowed, and a deep frown marred his normal easygoing expression. He was visibly unhappy – and Kallus knew _he_ was the reason for Zeb’s simmering anger.

There was no apologizing and making things better, however. Kallus knew he wouldn’t stop following orders, even if they were distasteful, and Zeb would never accept Kallus’s choice.

“I’m not sure what to say,” Kallus admitted, surprising himself with his honesty. “What do you want to hear from me, Zeb?”

Zeb bit his lip, thinking before answering. “I wanna hear that _you_ wanna act like you got honor. I wanna hear that maybe you wanna transfer to some other department if Intelligence is gonna keep having you do that shit. I wanna hear that your conscience is more important than a job!”

“I’m not going to say any of those things, Zeb,” Kallus replied. “I _have_ honor or I wouldn’t have left the Empire and nothing I do here changes that. At one time, you saw that. You respected that.”

“Karabast, Kal, you know I’m proud of you for leavin’,” Zeb argued. “But what you do now matters, too. You know that or you wouldn’t be in my face about it.”

“In your face?” Kallus laughed, short and harsh. “Zeb, I am not ‘in your face’. I am trying to do what I promised the Rebellion I would do if it took me in. _You’re_ the one with the problem.”

“ _We_ took you in,” Zeb said, a little growl entering his voice. “If it weren’t for me watchin’ the holocomm, you’d still be floatin’ in that escape pod above Atollon.”

Kallus frowned, aware he was more threatening than communicative right then. “And since then, I’ve saved _your_ life a few times. You don’t get to hold that over my head.”

Zeb covered his face briefly. “Kal, I’m not trying to hold anything over you. I’m trying to get you to realize you’re drifting off, mate. You’re losing your way.” Zeb looked at him again, sorrow showing through. “And I’m not sure you want to come back.”

A jolt of anger rocked Kallus, not at all placated by Zeb’s pleading tone, and he lashed out. “You’re wrong, Garazeb Orrelios. You’re wrong about me. You’re wrong about the Rebellion, even. You think you can dance through this war without getting your hands dirty? You know better than that. Lasan should have taught you as much. Remember, you’ve told me what _you_ did that day, just as I told you, and you were even more vicious than I was.”

Zeb’s face hardened at the mention of Lasan, which Kallus had counted on. He’d wanted to needle Zeb where it hurt. If the man was going to malign Kallus’s sense of honor, then he wanted to strike back.

And the former ISB-021 knew how to do that well.

Growling, low and menacing, Zeb took a step towards Kallus. “‘More vicious’? You used those T-7s. _Nothing_ I did in defense of my home compared to that butchery. The Alexsandr Kallus I fell in love with knew that. You’re obviously not him.”

Kallus smiled coldly. “I’m who I’ve always been, Zeb. I’m shrewd and clever and calculating when I must be. You knew that about me from the moment we met. If you thought I was magically a different person when I joined the Rebellion, then I’m sorry, but you’ve been gravely mistaken.”

Zeb’s ears drooped a little more. “Kal, that _isn’t_ you. Or it hasn’t been. If I’ve been wrong… if you don’t want to go back to how we were…”

“What?” pushed Kallus, knowing exactly what he was driving Zeb to say. He wanted to hear it from Zeb: that things were over. That they didn’t belong together.

He _needed_ Zeb to be the one to say it.

To make it happen, Kallus doubled down. “What if you’re wrong, Garazeb? What if I’ve never been the man you imagine me to be? What if I’m Alexsandr Kallus, unchanging?”

Zeb steadied himself, one hand against a landing strut. “If that is the kind of man you want to be, you’ll have to be him without me.”

And there it was. Zeb wanted out.

Kallus couldn’t find it in himself anymore to disagree. He wasn’t wrong about himself, but Zeb was also right, in a way. Alexsandr Kallus was not a good enough person to deserve Garazeb Orrelios in his life and he’d known that from the start.

“Fine,” Kallus bit out, trying to ignore the roiling of his stomach as he ended the one serious, loving relationship he’d ever had. “This thing between us was never meant to last forever, after all.”

Even as he spoke, Kallus knew it was a lie. When they’d started out, giddy after the liberation of Lothal, Kallus had wanted nothing more than a lifetime with Zeb. He’d believed the only thing that could separate them was Zeb realizing Kallus wasn’t worth his affections.

But… that’s what was happening, wasn’t it? Zeb had finally looked at Kallus and decided that he didn’t measure up to whatever moral standards the _Ghost_ crew lived by.

Kallus watched as Zeb rocked back.

“So that’s it?” the lasat asked. “That’s all you have to say?”

Was that all–? 

No, it wasn’t. ‘All’ would include Kallus confessing how much he loved Zeb and relied on him as a stable point in his life. All would include how much it hurt that Zeb disapproved of him as a person. All would include his wish that Zeb would have found him worthy of loyalty.

But what Kallus said was, “You are asking me to choose between the Rebellion and a relationship. I have to choose the Rebellion, Zeb. I committed myself to bringing down the Empire and I will die in pursuit of that. If you don’t want to fight by my side, I can’t make you.”

“Right.” Zeb looked away. “I see. I didn’t know that was where we stood. But really, it’s not a surprise. We both know I loved you more than you could ever love me.”

It took every ounce of Kallus’s considerable self-control not to react. Zeb’s words were an evisceration worse than anything Gererra’s mercenary had done to Kallus, worse than any pain or torture he’d ever been put through.

Up until that very moment, Kallus had still _adored_ Zeb. He was frustrated, he was angry, he was tired, and he didn’t see how they could stay together, but he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to stop loving the lasat. Every last fiber of his being was devoted to Zeb and probably always would be.

Apparently abject adoration hadn’t been enough in Zeb’s eyes.

Apparently, despite his claimed belief that Kallus had – previously – changed his morals, he didn’t think Kallus was capable of love.

Apparently, Kallus was too hard, too broken, too _Imperial_ to love – or be loved.

Squeezing his fists so tight he felt his fingernails dig into the leather of his gloves, Kallus spoke slowly, taking care to keep his voice tight and smooth. “You’re right,” he lied bitterly. “I didn’t love you like you loved me. It seems we’d better accept that and go our separate ways.”

Zeb glared at him. “Yeah. Since that’s the case, we better.”

Kallus held his breath for a moment, hoping that Zeb would take back his words, would reach out to Kallus, would do _something_ to stop Kallus from leaving.

Nothing happened except that they continued to scowl at each other.

Kallus had known that would be the case, but he’d hoped anyway. Nodding curtly, he said, “Very well, then. I’ll be by in the morning to pick up my things and then I won’t bother you again.”

Zeb stared at him angrily.

Before Kallus could stop it, he felt a single tear break through all his walls and his resolve, rolling slowly down his cheek until it was absorbed by his mutton chops.

Zeb didn’t even blink.

Turning, Kallus walked out from under the _Ghost_ and back across to the hangar entrance. With every bit of willpower he possessed, he held his face still, betraying nothing else.

Inside, though, he had shattered. He felt more broken than he had when he realized the Empire was never going to come for him on Bahryn. More broken than realizing the system he’d devoted his life to was unjust and cruel.

For the last two years, Kallus had believed Zeb wholeheartedly when he said Kallus was a good person, must be good to have given so much as Fulcrum when he could have just walked away from both the Empire and the Rebellion.

Zeb had lied, he realized. To Zeb, to the _Ghost_ crew, probably to the whole Rebellion, he would always be ISB-021. And the natural state of ISB-021 was cold and calculating and utterly _alone_.

It was a wonder things had lasted as long as they did.

Aware that his resolve was about to break, Kallus sought out solitude.

A few floors down from the hangar bay was a long, straight hallway, extending out past the main part of the base. A sniper’s shooting range had been set up out there, just before the point where the artificial gravity ended; Kallus had used it a few times himself just to maintain his skill.

Luckily, no one was out there and the range was cold. Kallus marched straight past the firing line, clenching and unclenching his fists as a whole flood of tears burst through, flowing freely over his cheeks and soaking his mutton chops, gathering uncomfortably at his jawline.

Furious at himself, he tried to wipe them away, but there were too many. He could barely see through the tears and was forced to stop walking lest he trip and hurt himself.

There, alone, with no one to witness his anguish, Kallus let go of everything he’d been holding inside. He let the tears fall, feeling his sinuses clogging and head start aching as he did so. Bent over, hands on his knees, he breathed deep and let out a scream.

He hadn’t truly screamed when he’d hurt his leg on Bahryn. He hadn’t screamed when Thrawn tortured him.

Losing Zeb was worse than either pain, however. It was horrible and terrifying and oh so _final_. Kallus had seen to that; he’d urged it on. He thought he’d accepted it, but he hadn’t known that it would _hurt_ so much. He’d never imagined that Zeb had lied to him.

Never imagined that he would feel so empty and alone when it was all over.

Reaching out, Kallus found the wall and slid down it, wracked with sobs. He clutched his knees to his chest and tried to control himself again. Tried to forget anything had happened. His breath wasn’t cooperating, nor were his trembling limbs. Even the screams seemed beyond his control.

Kallus was still there, hours later, when one of the Rebellion’s snipers showed up to practice. The man called to him, but Kallus didn’t notice.

Nor did Kallus care. For all that he mattered, the sniper might as well shoot him.

It wasn’t like he had something to keep fighting for, after all.


	2. Chapter 2

The briefing room on _Home One_ was full, the susurrus of multiple conversations filling the air, energy spiking as people contemplated the purported new threat from the Empire.

Kallus sat alone, as always, apart from the commandos he was to lead the next day, taking them through the forests of Endor’s moon and against hidden Imperial bases. The commandos chatted with each other, adrenaline already high as they faced the coming battle.

 _Each man must prepare himself mentally_ , Kallus reflected, trying not to let himself be irritated by the useless noise. _If it helps them to joke about death, then that is what I must let them do. I’ll find quiet on my own later._

Hunched over, he scanned the room again. So many of the Rebellion’s ‘heroes’ were present, from the Alderaanian princess to commando general Crix Madine to Admiral Ackbar. Even Wedge Antilles stood tall and proud in his flight suit, no longer the awkward and stumbling young man Kallus had helped escape from Skystrike.

Motion at the door caught his eye. Almost immediately, Kallus wished he hadn’t looked.

General Syndulla walked in, gaze drifting right past him as she found a seat on the other side of the room.

Kallus breathed slowly. It’d been nearly three years since he and Zeb ended things. Most of the time, he never saw the _Ghost_ crew, though he often managed the Intelligence side of their missions. If he interacted with them at all, it was with Hera alone. 

Hera hadn’t ever acted angry in their dealings. If anything, she treated Kallus like he was a stranger, not a former half-member of her crew with a long running history of both help and hurt. Kallus respected that; he had no desire for continued drama and appreciated Hera’s professionalism.

Today, though, her indifference stung.

It was ridiculous, but Kallus had thought that maybe, on the eve of the biggest battle the Rebellion had ever faced, she might at least wish him well and allow him to do the same for her. For her crew.

Kallus squeezed his eyes shut and made a decision. He knew the mission ahead. He’d helped handle the intelligence the bothans brought them. He’d helped plan everything before volunteering for active command. He didn’t really need to stay.

So he didn’t. As inconspicuously as a man his height could, he slipped down the amphitheater stairs and out the briefing room door, intending to retreat to his cabin and avoid any and all social interactions.

He made it around one corner before his galaxy fell apart.

Paying more attention to the ground than to his surroundings, Kallus walked straight into a wall of purple fur.

_Oh, karabast._

“Kal- Kallus?”

Kallus looked up into Zeb’s face, noting the brief flash of worry before the lasat fell into his usual unreadable mask. At one point, Kallus had been an expert at reading Zeb’s emotions, but back then, Zeb had been open with him, willing to let him in.

Not so the last three years.

“Garazeb,” Kallus said. If Zeb was going to distance himself and not use nicknames, then Kallus would follow suit. “Are you attending the briefing?”

Zeb’s lip curled in irritation. “That’s why I’m here, ain’t it?”

Nodding curtly, Kallus stepped aside. “Don’t be late on my behalf, then. I was just leaving.”

That seemed to catch Zeb off-guard. “Figured you’d be leadin’ the thing.”

Kallus held back the slight amusement he felt. “Not quite. I helped General Madine develop the strategy for the ground assault and will be leading a team tomorrow, but leadership felt they could run the briefing without my assistance.”

Zeb’s mouth quirked into the slightest hint of a smile. “Sounds right. You do all the work, they get all the credit.”

“That’s the way of things,” Kallus agreed.

Unsure of what to say next, Kallus bit his lip, watching Zeb scratch the back of his neck. The move was an unconscious sign of nerves, he knew, though he wasn’t sure what Zeb had to be nervous about. The lasat had made it clear over the last three years that he’d moved on from Kallus.

Excruciatingly clear. At one point a few months prior, Kallus had found himself stuck in a briefing, the only open seat a row in front of Zeb and Rex. He’d been forced to listen, flushing redder by the second, as Zeb loudly and pointedly described to Rex the many exotic romantic encounters he’d had since ending things with Kallus. Rex, the bastard, had had the gall to _laugh_ about it. Kallus had quickly reached the limit of what he could hear and left the briefing early.

He hadn’t cried over it. He hadn’t cried over anything since the day it all ended. But it had still cut deeply and he had needed to be alone, to recover his composure.

Kallus cleared his throat. “I saw General Syndulla. I presume she’s waiting on you.”

“Maybe,” Zeb allowed. He looked past Kallus for a moment before pulling his gaze back. “But I think I’m not gonna go.”

“Oh?” An eyebrow quirked, Kallus tried to figure out what Zeb was doing, then. “Does the _Ghost_ need work?”

“Always,” Zeb admitted. “No, I, uh. Look, you’re prob’ly not interested, but what do you say we go to the tapcafe and you brief me instead? You know more than Mon Mothma does.”

The invitation caught Kallus off-guard. Drink with Zeb? Just the two of them? As if they were comrades once more?

He _ached_ to say yes, but made himself be cautious. “I don’t know, Garazeb. Are you sure that’s wise?”

The lasat’s face fell. “Forget I said anythin’. Not tryin’ to cause trouble. Just thought it’d be nice.”

Zeb sounded _so sincere_ that Kallus’s resolve melted away. He held his hand up to stop Zeb from fleeing. “No. You’re right, it would be nice. I’d be happy to go to the tapcafe with you… Zeb.”

Relief flashed in Zeb’s eyes and Kallus felt a pang inside.

He hoped he was making the right decision.

The bartender kept the drinks flowing and Kallus soon found himself warm and flushed from alcohol, tongue loosened enough that talking to Zeb felt almost easy once again. He even came close to laughing a few times, a rare occurrence during the past years.

They’d started out seriously, Kallus describing the planned actions, demonstrating troop and ship movements with waving hands, but they were past that now, on to past missions and Alliance gossip.

Through half-lidded eyes, Zeb watched Kallus take another drink, making warmth puddle in Kallus’s stomach.

_Oh Force, I missed this. I missed him._

Zeb’s eyes widened and Kallus realized to his horror that he’d said his thoughts aloud.

“Stars,” Kallus muttered. “I’m sorry. I’m drunk. Ignore me.”

He started to slide out of the booth, to go hide away from his embarrassment, but Zeb’s hand shot out and caught his. “Don’t,” Zeb said, pleading. “Don’t go. I missed this, too.”

Logically, Kallus knew the best thing to do would be to jerk his hand back and leave despite Zeb’s request. _Because_ of Zeb’s request, really. Their relationship was long over; thinking there was anything left to say between them was foolish.

But he’d been honest with Zeb. He was drunk. And drunkenness gave him an excuse to be anything but logical.

Kallus settled back into the booth, cautiously optimistic, waiting to see if Zeb would say anything else.

The air was heavy as he waited, both men staring at each other, waiting to see if the moment broke.

It didn’t. Zeb’s grip tightened on his hand. “Kal,” he said. “I know it didn’t end well. I know it had to end. But sometimes I wish…”

 _What do you wish, Garazeb?_ Kallus wondered, but this time his thoughts stayed his own. Besides, it was easy to guess Zeb’s wish. 

It was the same as Kallus’s own.

“I know,” he said, filling in the silence. “But that was a long time ago, Zeb. You’ve moved on.” As soon as he said the last sentence, he regretted it. He should have included himself in it, but it would have been a lie.

Zeb generously did not comment on Kallus’s slip-up. “Tomorrow,” he said instead. “Tomorrow’s a big day.”

Kallus held his breath, terrified and thrilled at his suspicion of what Zeb was about to say. “It will be,” he said as lightly as he could manage. “Even if we’re lucky, we’ll still lose a lot of people.”

“Yeah.” Zeb swallowed. “It’s war, though. I know the _Ghost_ might not make it through.”

“And my commando mission could easily end in defeat.”

Zeb’s eyes were big now and Kallus was drowning in their depths. No other eyes had ever captivated him like Zeb’s; after loving a lasat, no other species ever measured up. “Look, it’s stupid to ask, but since we both know what happens tomorrow…”

He didn’t have to say it. “One last time?” Kallus asked. “I suppose it could be the good-bye we never had.”

“Somethin’ like that.”

Kallus nodded, hoping he didn’t appear as desperate to fall back into bed with Zeb as he actually was. “But just good-bye,” he insisted. “Just a way to make our last night pleasurable. It means nothing else.”

“Of course,” Zeb agreed. “No confusion there.”

“Your place or mine?” Kallus quirked his eyebrows, already anticipating the sight of Zeb naked again, the feel of fur on his most sensitive skin.

Zeb grinned. “ _Ghost_ ’s closer.”

Kallus tried not to read anything into the fact that Zeb knew where his cabin was, knew it was on the far side of the ship. “I’m amenable to that.”

“‘Amenable’? Karabast, you haven’t changed,” Zeb said, shaking his head. “Still fancy even when you’re drunk and horny.”

Zeb’s accusation pulled a tight smile from Kallus. “I may be drunk,” he said, “but I do believe you are, too.”

“And horny?” Zeb broke into a toothy grin, sending a shiver through Kallus’s body.

“Take me to the _Ghost_ and find out.”

The _Ghost_ was practically a time capsule, Kallus noted. Nothing had changed from his days living there except that Hera had hidden Jacen away on a safe planet and the boy was no longer underfoot. The air was the same: stale and recycled like all ships, but laced with the smell of caf drifting out of the galley – and the smell of lasat coming from Zeb’s cabin.

Kallus had managed to control himself during their furtive dash to the ship from the tapcafe, but being able to _smell_ Zeb, knowing that momentarily he would be able to bury his nose in that thick fur and _remember_ what safety and love used to smell like… well, by the time Zeb opened his door and they snuck in, Kallus was hard.

“How long has it been for you?” Zeb asked, turning to face Kallus. “I don’t want to hurt you. We can do this either way.”

“You won’t hurt me,” Kallus said. It didn’t matter how long it’d been since he’d had sex with anything but his own hand, he was determined to feel Zeb inside him one last time.

The edges of Zeb’s eyes hardened the slightest bit. “Ah. So you’ve been… recently? I knew you’d been with that other Intel agent, but I thought that was over.”

“Who?” For a moment, Kallus was genuinely confused, but then he remembered: two years before, he and another human had been paired up for an extended operation that required them to pose as a married couple. To ensure realism, they’d acted out the illusion during the month they prepared for the mission. “Oh, Zeb, no. Cath and I– we were never together. That was an op, nothing more. We never touched each other like that.”

Zeb seemed bewildered. “But then–”

“I haven’t been with anyone else, Zeb,” Kallus clarified, a little embarrassed at just how much that confession revealed about him. “I know you have, and I’m glad you moved on–”

Shifting uncomfortably, Zeb looked away. “Uh, yeah. About that.”

Kallus gave him a sharp look. “You’re not with anyone now, are you?” he asked, suddenly worried.

“No,” Zeb said quickly. “I, uh, haven’t been, uh, since…”

 _Is he saying…?_ “Zeb, I _heard_ you telling Rex about all your relationships. You were talking so loud you had to know I’d hear.”

Zeb caught Kallus’s eye again, looking ashamed. “I made all that up,” he admitted quietly. “I was tryin’ to needle you. I haven’t done anything, either.”

Kallus’s head spun. He knew the reason he’d never sought out a new relationship, but he’d truly believed Zeb had. 

_Maybe he feels the same way about you as you do about him_ , whispered a tempting voice in his head.

No, Kallus couldn’t let himself believe that, not if he was going to make it through the night. He placed a hand on Zeb’s chest, holding him at a little bit of a distance. “This still means nothing. It’s been a long time for us both, so let’s just enjoy ourselves while we can. We’re back to normal when this is over.”

_Just like we went ‘back to normal’ after Bahryn. Everything changed for me and I know this will change everything again. I should walk away but I’m too selfish to stop._

Zeb frowned and Kallus recognized that he was about to say something, contradict Kallus, ask for more than they’d agreed.

Kallus couldn’t have that. Couldn’t stand that. “Shut up,” he said preemptively, stepping forward and grabbing Zeb roughly by the ears. Before Zeb could complain, Kallus rose on his toes and kissed Zeb, shoving his tongue into the lasat’s mouth, feeling the sharp fangs once more, soaking in the spicy taste. 

_Let Zeb try to talk now_.

After a second of hesitation, Zeb opened up to Kallus, kissing him back fiercely, using those large hands to jerk Kallus close, holding them together. Holding them close enough Kallus could feel Zeb emerge from his slit, just as hard and hot and wanting as Kallus was himself.

A moan escaped him and he let his hands drop, fumbling for the catch on Zeb’s armor. He needed Zeb to be naked, right then. He needed to be the same soon after. 

Zeb tugged at his clothes, shoving the coat off his shoulders. Kallus stopped his own efforts long enough to worm out of it, shedding his shirt while he was at it. By the time he started to unbuckle his belt, Zeb stood bare before him.

Kallus paused, appreciating the view. Strong muscles under soft fur that lightened into a soft lilac as it approached the sizable cock that Kallus had never stopped dreaming of; the sight of it dripping with slick, almost shimmering in the dim cabin light, made him shiver in anticipation.

Zeb grinned again. “Still like what you see?”

“Shut up,” Kallus repeated, scrabbling at his pants zipper. _It’s not fair he only has to take off a jumpsuit. Why do I wear so many clothes?_

A smug expression still on his face, Zeb crouched in front of Kallus and moved his hands, taking over the job of undressing him. He shoved Kallus’s pants down, removing his underwear at the same time, and leaned in.

Zeb’s tongue, raspier and more dexterous than a human’s, licked the underside of Kallus’s dick, eliciting an unbidden cry. 

Kallus hadn’t meant to make any noise. Hadn’t meant to react so. His body betrayed him, however, shaking with pleasure at Zeb’s touch, limbs trembling as Zeb swallowed him whole. He gripped Zeb’s shoulders to steady himself. “Be careful,” he warned. “I don’t know how long–”

Zeb pulled off him, loudly licking his lips. Kallus shivered, the noise making him ache to taste the lasat again, to fall to his knees again, Zeb’s hand on his head again, guiding him as he attempted to fit all of that cock in his mouth.

“If I’m gonna kriff you,” Zeb said, low and rumbly, “then you better get those shoes off.”

Kallus divested himself of the rest of his clothing in record time, his dick aching to be touched again, harder than he’d been in years, filled with more desire than he’d ever believed possible. He was about to have the last, best sex of his life, he knew.

His heart pounded in his chest, feeling full and warm and about to burst. He tried to quash it, knowing that it would betray him, make his promise of detachment a lie, but he failed miserably. He stepped forward again, reaching out for Zeb’s chest, winding his fingers into purple fur. “How do you want me?”

Zeb’s brows arched and he cupped Kallus’s head in one of his large hands.

“Do you want me to suck you off first?” Kallus asked, calling up the sultry tone he remembered Zeb loving. “Should I ride you? Go on all fours?”

Leaning in, Zeb kissed Kallus instead of answering, at least for a minute. “I want you on the bed. On your back. Where I can see you.”

Kallus nodded, though he knew the request was dangerous. It would be so much safer if they weren’t looking at each other’s faces, if they focused on the fucking and nothing more.

He couldn’t bring himself to deny Zeb, though. Running his fingers down Zeb’s front, he caressed the lasat, gathering slick on his hands.

Zeb grunted, eyes closed as Kallus’s fingers danced and teased. “Kriff, Kal, I don’t know how long I’m gonna last either. Not if you keep doing this.”

“Doing what?” Kallus asked, letting his proud smile bleed into his voice. “Touching you?”

“Being you.”

Kallus stuttered in his movements, fearing for a moment that he’d gone too far, that he’d made a mistake agreeing to sleep with Zeb again.

It was too late to back out, though, and he didn’t really want to. He wanted this, even if he was risking every single emotional wall he’d built, every defense he’d put up against loving Zeb.

Zeb was obviously too drunk to control his emotions, so Kallus would have to do that for them both. He was definitely drunk as well, but he had always prided himself on being able to work through intoxication. If he viewed this as a mission, perhaps, he could get them both through it.

Kallus pulled away, sitting on the bed and backing up to the wall. Spreading his legs, he used a now-slick finger to circle his hole before pressing in, slowly loosening the muscles.

Zeb watched him work, captivated, so much so that his efforts to stroke himself fell off. “Force, Kal,” he muttered. “You’re too good at this.”

The praise made Kallus’s heart clench. He covered by smirking. “Always have been,” he said. “Or had you forgotten?”

Something in Zeb seemed shaken. He blinked, moving his gaze to Kallus’s face. He started to speak, twice, before simply shaking his head.

Kallus recognized his attempt at being cocky had almost messed things up. Rather than say anything else, he redoubled his efforts to prepare himself for Zeb, inserting a third finger. He focused on the feel and the stretch, knowing Zeb would stretch him even further, a moan of pleasured anticipation escaping him. “Zeb,” he said finally. “It’s your turn.”

“C’mere,” Zeb said, reaching out to Kallus. 

Gently, Zeb pulled Kallus to him, running his hands up and down Kallus’s legs as he lifted them over his shoulders.

Kallus shuddered at his touch. “Please, Zeb,” he begged. “ _Please_.”

“I’ve got you,” Zeb said softly, moving Kallus into position and carefully pressing against him.

Kallus closed his eyes as Zeb entered him, moving achingly slow. He knew Zeb was being cautious and trying not to hurt him by forcing his way, but Kallus wanted a little pain. He _needed_ something to remind him that this was just sex, not making love. Needed to be anchored in reality because it was too easy to fall into fantasy.

“Harder,” he begged, hoping Zeb would see the importance of the issue. Hoping Zeb would work with him.

Zeb didn’t. He continued at that same deliberate pace.

Kallus knew he could take all of Zeb, had done it hundreds of times, but there was a point where it always felt like too much. He gasped as he reached that point, so full he thought it was impossible to take more.

Zeb murmured something and rubbed Kallus’s legs again, apparently remembering Kallus’s tipping point. What he said, Kallus wasn’t sure, because he was too lost to pleasure already.

Zeb filled him physically, yes, but Kallus was also drowning in the lasat’s caresses, fur providing a sweet friction against his skin. In addition, Zeb’s scent enveloped everything in the room, which was quickly becoming too hot, and Kallus was stuck watching Zeb’s face slacken in pleasure.

It was too much. Kallus scrambled to keep his control, but he failed miserably. A cry escaped him and before he knew what was happening, he blinked and tears ran down the sides of his face. Tears of pleasure but also tears of longing that he’d held onto for three long years. “Zeb,” he whined. “Oh, stars, Zeb!”

“Shh,” said Zeb, pausing. “Shh, Alexsandr. It’s okay. It’s all gonna be okay. Just relax and trust me.”

Zeb’s voice was so gentle and loving that the tears came faster. Kallus wanted to give in and believe Zeb. He wanted to be starting something, not finally ending it. He wanted to open his heart again.

But he couldn’t. Life didn’t work that way. 

He nodded. Zeb pushed in again, this time bottoming out. It was his turn to shudder, a purr rising from deep in his chest. “Karabast,” he said shakily. “Alexsandr, I–”

“Don’t,” Kallus pleaded, cutting him off. “Don’t say it, Zeb, please. You _can’t_.”

A heartbroken expression crossed Zeb’s face, but he didn’t complete his sentence. “Tell me when,” he said instead, the affection gone from his voice.

Still fighting tears, Kallus tried not to let Zeb’s tone hurt, but it was hard. “Move,” he instructed. “I can take it.”

Zeb moved, slightly at first, pulling out further and faster each time. As he pushed back in, Kallus whimpered and gasped, the entirely non-human texture of Zeb’s cock rubbing inside him, a pleasure he’d desperately hoped to feel again.

 _One last time,_ he reminded himself. _This is it. No more sex after this. Better focus and remember everything about it._

“Alex– Kal,” Zeb stuttered. “I can’t– I’m gonna come. Should I–?”

“Inside me,” Kallus managed to get out. He wiped at his cheeks, trying to drive off the tears before Zeb really noticed them. 

Suddenly, a large hand curled around his dick, stroking in time with Zeb’s thrusts. Kallus cried out again and clenched down around Zeb.

The pressure pulled a yelp from the lasat and he shuddered, pushing into Kallus as far as he could get. He gasped and Kallus braced himself.

For as full as he felt with just Zeb’s cock, the amount of come the lasat produced stretched him even further, filling him to the brim and spilling out messily around Zeb as he rode out his orgasm.

It was the most amazing thing Kallus had felt in years.

Trembling, Kallus came too, spilling onto Zeb’s fingers, pleasure taking him past awareness. He yelled Zeb’s name, his proper name, loud enough his throat felt raw afterwards.

He floated, lost to the world, aware only of the most intense feelings of bliss, gulping for air and grasping at the sheet beneath him.

The first thing Kallus became aware of was heat, as if a heavy blanket were wrapped around him.

The second was a wonderful languid feeling weighing down all his limbs.

Slowly, he realized that at some point while he’d been out of it, Zeb had climbed into the bed too. The warmth came from being draped over Zeb’s chest, furry arms holding him tightly. Zeb’s breath was deep but shaky as he gently rubbed his hands up and down Kallus’s back.

“Zeb,” he whispered, lifting his head.

Zeb smiled, using one hand to comb back Kallus’s hair. “You’re back,” he said.

“Did you already clean up?” Kallus asked. “How long was I gone?”

“Long enough,” Zeb said gently. “Don’t worry about it.”

Kallus pressed his face into Zeb’s chest, breathing deeply.

For a second, he almost tilted his head, almost invited Zeb to scent him. He didn’t, however. Scenting was even more intimate than sex and if that happened, Kallus couldn’t pretend anymore. He wouldn’t be able to walk away.

Then again, he wasn’t sure he could physically walk away at the moment, much less emotionally.

Zeb stroked his hair. “Are you gonna leave now?” he asked, eerily prescient.

Kallus chuckled, still a little high. “As soon as I can move, I suppose.”

“You don’t have to,” Zeb said. “The _Ghost_ isn’t going anywhere ‘til morning. You won’t miss your mission.”

In the back of Kallus’s mind, an alarm went off. He’d gone so much further than he’d meant to, felt more than he meant to, hadn’t rebuffed Zeb like he’d needed to. Staying was absolutely the wrong thing to do. Staying was breaking every rule he and Zeb had agreed to.

Deliberately, Kallus ignored the alarm. The rules had only been broken because they were both still tipsy. The morning would be different. They would be sober and they would behave accordingly. They would walk away and put all this behind them. They would face their fates in battle knowing that things were finally resolved.

Everything would be easier in the morning.

“Yes,” Kallus mumbled. “I’ll stay.”

Zeb pulled him a little tighter. “Good.” He sighed. “Promise me you’ll make it through tomorrow.”

“I shall if you promise the same.” Kallus nuzzled deeper into his chest. “Good night, Garazeb.”

“Good night, Alexsandr,” Zeb said softly.

Enveloped in warmth, utterly relaxed, Kallus let himself drift off into the deepest sleep he’d had in years.


	3. Chapter 3

As usual, Kallus snapped to awareness quickly, blinking away the blurriness of sleep. 

Very obviously, something was wrong. He wasn’t in his cabin, lying straight and still and _alone_ on his single cot. He was…

Oh, _karabast_.

He was with Zeb.

In a rush, he recalled everything about the previous night, from the promise of a detached hookup to the moment he lost himself to pleasure and to _Zeb._

Kriff. 

He stared at Zeb’s face, relaxed and peaceful in sleep, a sight he hadn’t seen in years. _I wonder if Zeb’s sleep has been as unrestful as mine?_

One thing was clear, however: Kallus had made a huge mistake by staying. He’d thought he could be impartial and disinterested after sleep, but feeling Zeb’s arms still around him, claws twined in his hair, deep breaths making the lasat’s chest rise and fall in time with Kallus’s own…

He was anything _but_ impartial and disinterested.

Kallus wanted to wake Zeb with a kiss, maybe even find time for another round before they both had to report to battle stations. He wanted to be held by Zeb for as long as possible.

He wanted to let Zeb use the ‘L’ word and he wanted to say it back.

None of that could happen, however, so Kallus slowly extricated himself from Zeb’s grip, managing his escape without waking Zeb. He hadn’t lost his touch, it seemed. Quietly, he pulled on his clothes and snuck out of the cabin. If he was lucky…

“Kallus?”

He was not lucky. Kallus turned to see Hera leaning in the doorway to her cabin, a mug of steaming caf in her hands. Unsure of what to say but unable to leave, he stood there, caught in her critical stare.

“You and Zeb?” she asked, one brow quirked. She didn’t sound judgmental, simply curious.

_Yes. Zeb and I,_ Kallus wanted to answer. _I miss him and I think he missed me. I want to come back if he’ll have me._

He couldn’t say any of that. He’d promised not to. Promised Zeb, promised himself. An angry lasat’s judgment be damned, he _was_ an honorable being. “Don’t read anything into it,” he snapped, the harshness of his tone covering the hurt underneath.

She blinked. “Well, all right then.” Hera took a sip of caf. “You want some caf? Breakfast?”

The longer she watched him, the more panicked Kallus became. “No,” he said sharply. “I have to go prepare for my mission today.”

That got a nod. “Ground assault. I heard. Good luck.”

There were the words he’d hoped for the day before. “To you as well,” he said, forcibly softening his voice. “Losing the _Ghost_ would be a major blow to the Rebellion.” _And to me._

Hera didn’t say anything, but she didn’t have to. They both knew the odds they were facing. They both knew the upcoming battle could be easily lost, could easily destroy the whole Rebellion. They would likely be so scattered, so ripped to shreds by the Imperial defense that in the end, one commando unit or one freighter could be taken out almost without notice, no matter who died with them.

Kallus cleared his throat. “Take care,” he said quickly, ducking down the ladder before Hera could answer.

Head down, he made his way through _Home One_ to his quarters. Around him, the ship bubbled with energy as beings prepared for the biggest assault the Alliance had ever made. Their biggest battles had all been defensive until this moment: the upcoming offensive gave them the chance to take out both the Death Star and the Emperor himself.

Kallus had met the Emperor a few times. Nothing intimate; merely the chance to kneel before him and receive a shoulder touch, a word of congratulations on his fine work. At the time, the meetings had been high points of his ISB career, proof of his worth to the cause he served. Proof of his worth to the galaxy at large.

Looking back, the memories made him shudder. He remembered the cold, oily feeling of the air surrounding Palpatine, the scratchy tone of his voice and sunken eyes not quite hidden by his robe. 

How had he ever served _that_ man so willingly? A cause that would blatantly name _two_ weapons Death Stars? That would destroy three planets, one so entirely that it was nothing but unidentifiable rubble?

Kallus closed his door behind him, grateful for the privacy of a single cabin. He shuddered at the thought of what he’d been. What he might still be if it weren’t for–

For Zeb.

Closing his eyes, Kallus sighed. Everything came back to Zeb, didn’t it? Deciding to hunt the Spectres so fervently in the first place. Surviving Bahryn. Starting to question the Empire. Becoming Fulcrum. Being picked up after Atollon. Finding his feet with the Rebellion. Finding what he thought was a new home with the Spectres. And then…

Then losing it all. Losing Zeb. Losing most of his motivation.

Oh, Kallus had done his job and done it well, but Zeb was the spark of rebellion in Kallus’s heart and always had been.

That had to stop, however. They’d finalized things. Their relationship was beyond over at this point. They were moving on. They were…

Well, they were going into battle shortly. What they were to each other didn’t really matter anymore, especially not when they were bound for the Endor system. What mattered was ending the Empire’s evil, whatever the cost.

Forcing thoughts of Zeb from his mind, Kallus quickly washed his face and dressed for the mission, pulling the camouflage poncho on last. One final check of his weapons belt and he glanced at himself in the mirror.

Kallus barely recognized himself. The firm, controlling hand on his shoulder – the one keeping Kallus miserable and alone – had loosened. He’d told himself one night with Zeb wouldn’t matter, but he realized it had. For one night, for one morning, he didn’t feel the pain of their breakup and it’d changed him. He looked… almost happy.

He hadn’t been happy in three years.

He was a far cry from the determined ISB agent of yore, or the exhausted Fulcrum spy. Even Kallus the Intelligence agent seemed a stranger at the moment.

For one moment, seeing himself in the mirror, he was simply Alexsandr. Kal.

The illusion didn’t last long, partially thanks to the klaxon sounding through the ship, calling everyone to their battle stations. Kallus stepped out into the now-busy hallway, head held high, and worked his way to the shuttle hangars. 

A large Imperial shuttle stood open, commandos milling about beneath it. As Kallus walked up, Han Solo – _General_ Solo, now – spotted him.

“Agent Kallus!” he called, a shit-eating grin on his face. “Heard you’re with us. You wanna ride in the cockpit with the other command staff?”

Kallus fought back a grimace. He and Solo had made peace with their past over the last few years, but that didn’t mean Solo had let up on teasing him for defecting. “I believe I’ll ride with the men,” Kallus said. “Unless that was an order?”

Solo clapped Kallus on the shoulder, hard, grin never faltering. “Probably better you don’t. Chewie still thinks you smell like a lasat.”

Kallus schooled his face, trying not to react. Solo couldn’t know he’d just left Zeb’s cabin. He was merely rubbing in the same tired joke he’d made since Yavin.

Chewbacca, though… wookiees and lasats were ancestral allies. If anyone could tell he’d slept with Zeb, it would be Chewbacca. The wookiee was already watching him with interest from over Solo’s shoulder.

Looking away to avoid Chewbacca’s stare, Kallus scanned over their gathered forces. Three groups of commandos, three Imperial installations to attack. If the Force was on their side, three groups would return to a mostly-intact fleet after the destruction of the Death Star.

Was the Force ever on Kallus’s side, however? He was much more acquainted with being tossed about by the Force than with receiving any sort of assistance.

Princess Organa stood in the door of the shuttle and called for everyone to load up. Kallus shuffled on board, finding a spot to stand. He watched Solo, Chewbacca, Organa, and Skywalker climb up to the cockpit and contemplated Solo’s invitation. As an officer, he _was_ part of the command team. He didn’t _have_ to stand the whole ride, shoulder-to-shoulder with his subordinates.

He _could_ join the others, but Kallus didn’t belong with them, not really. They were the Rebellion’s golden team, the inspiring heroes.

Kallus wasn’t golden. He wasn’t inspiring. He was efficient and practical and willing to dirty his hands.

No, better to stay with the men than to delude himself into thinking he was someone who belonged in a cockpit.

“Kallus.”

Was _everyone_ going to try to talk to him? Did he have some sort of beacon on him? Kallus turned to see Rex standing behind him.

“Captain,” he said coolly, hoping to discourage conversation.

Rex didn’t seem too eager to talk, thankfully. He was silent as the shuttle doors closed and Solo piloted them out of the hangar. The shuttle shook and bumped as they gained speed – Kallus frowned, if the shuttle had still been in the Imperial fleet, the lack of fluidity would have landed it in the repair docks immediately – and then fell still as they reached hyperspace.

“So, you and Zeb again?” Rex asked suddenly.

Kallus cringed. Of course he knew; the only question was if Hera or Zeb told him. “It was nothing.”

“Did Zeb agree to nothing?”

“Yes, he did.” Kallus frowned. “It wouldn’t have happened otherwise.”

Rex gave him a knowing look. “I know I’m just an old man now,” he started.

Kallus cut him off with an irritated look. “You’re three years younger than I am.”

Nonplussed, Rex stared back at him. “And I was going to war before you even qualified for the Republic Academy.”

Well, Kallus couldn’t argue that point. He hadn’t seen battle until he was in his twenties and commissioned in the ISB; Rex had been pushed into it at the age of ten. He sighed. “What were you going to say, Rex?”

Rex was quiet for a second. “I’ve learned that no matter the circumstances, you’ll always regret leaving things unsaid. Especially when it comes to fellow soldiers.”

Kallus’s ears burned. “Do you expect me to comm Zeb and profess my undying love?” he snapped.

Rex chuffed a laugh. “Hardly. But you do need to plan for what happens next.”

“What happens next–?” Kallus sputtered. “Rex, did you pay attention to the mission briefing? The likelihood of surviving this offensive is miniscule. What sort of plans could I possibly have?”

“The kind that might involve Zeb.” Rex shook his head. “You do realize you weren’t the only ones on the _Ghost_ last night, right? What I heard wasn’t ‘nothing’. It was something you and Zeb need to seriously discuss.”

Cheeks burning in embarrassment, Kallus looked away. As he turned his head, he caught sight of the dozen closest commandos quickly pretending they weren’t eavesdropping. “So you’re telling me _you_ have plans for after this battle?” he asked Rex, a desperate attempt to change the topic.

“Of course.” Rex crossed his arms and looked satisfied. “Wollfe and I are going to see if we can find any more of our brothers. See if we can’t all enjoy some peace in our last years.”

“I’m _thrilled_ you’re that optimistic,” Kallus sneered. “But I’m attempting to be practical.”

“Ah. ‘Practical’ what led you to break things off with Zeb in the first place? Or was it ‘practical’ to spend your time in his bed instead of the briefing?”

“What Zeb and I do – or don’t do – is none of your business,” Kallus hissed.

“Kid, it is when you distract me when I’m trying to prep my blasters. It is when I’ve had to live with Zeb for three karking years.” Rex frowned at Kallus. “I don’t care if you think last night was some sort of no-longer-friends-with-benefits thing or what, you need to plan on talking to Zeb when this is through. Try listening and being honest with yourself this time.”

Kallus bit his tongue, despite his innate rage at the ‘kid’ moniker. Rex was simply trying to help Zeb, his friend. He just happened to be humiliating Kallus in front of the commandos while he was at it. Kallus would survive whatever Rex wanted to say, thought he hoped the clone was through speaking.

Rex didn’t stop. “Kallus, if you won’t try to think ahead for yourself, think about Zeb. Whether you want to patch things up or walk away again, you need to know what you want from him. He deserves at least that much consideration.”

Kallus closed his eyes and nodded, mostly to get Rex off his back.

The words sunk into his brain though, and he had to admit Rex was right. Whatever he and Zeb were to each other, just as a fellow sentient being, Kallus owed Zeb a clear answer.

_I’m walking away. It’s as easy as that. Even if we both live, getting back together would be irrational. We can’t mend what was said._

Even as his mind told him the reasonable answer, Kallus’s heart spoke otherwise.

_Zeb almost said ‘love’ last night. He would have if I hadn’t stopped them. **He** suggested drinks. **He** suggested sex. **He** suggested I spend the night._

_Zeb would be willing to try if I let him. All I have to do is **let him**._

Kallus swallowed, terrified of the desire Rex’s suggestion was uncovering.

Although really, was it uncovering anything? Kallus had known from the moment he cut things off with Zeb that he still loved the lasat. He’d never lied to himself about that, at least.

He’d genuinely thought that Zeb had moved on and healed. He’d certainly given Zeb the time and space to do so.

Did he want to pursue a future with Zeb?

Did he believe there was a future?

Kallus thought deeply, shutting out every distraction. The easy answer was ‘yes’ to both. He’d denied them earlier because he didn’t hold any hope. He’d always let Zeb be the hopeful one, had followed his example, had hoped _because_ Zeb hoped.

_Up until last night, I wasn’t sure I cared to survive this battle, as long as I could make my death meaningful._

_It didn’t used to be that way, did it? I used to have Zeb to fight for, Zeb to come home to._

_No, not home. I haven’t had a home since my father died. Why would I think of that?_

_The Empire wasn’t home, not in the end. The Rebellion is a mission, not a home._

_Bases and cabins and bunks aren’t homes. They change too frequently and are always meant to end._

_But… it always **felt** like ‘coming home’ to Zeb._

_Home isn’t a person, is it?_

Nearly an hour later, as they were surely nearing the Endor system, Kallus looked up from the ground-in grease stain on the floor he’d been studying. Rex turned his head, watching him curiously.

“Zeb,” Kallus said quietly. “I want a future where Zeb is happy. Whatever that takes.”

Rex nodded, entirely unsurprised. “So, for you it’s Zeb. For me, my brothers. You ready to fight now – and win?” Rex’s voice rose as he spoke.

A murmur ran through the shuttle as it shuddered out of hyperspace. Kallus scanned the hold, locating the beings he’d trained. They were all watching him.

He’d thought Rex was demeaning him in the eyes of his troops, but they didn’t appear at all critical.

“They’re lookin’ to _you_ for hope,” Rex said quietly. “You owe them that, too.”

Kallus came close to fussing at Rex: he already knew how to be a leader and didn’t need a lecture on who and what he owed. But in their position, right now?

Perhaps a little extra hope wouldn’t compromise him in front of his troops.

“For Zeb,” Kallus said, just loudly enough to be heard. “For Rex’s brothers. For the galaxy.”

Rex nodded at him, smiling. “That’a boy.”

The Ewok villages were packed, beings filling every rickety bridge and walkway. Most of the Rebels were fairly stationary, though some wandered the crowds serving drinks.

And then there was Kallus.

Captain Kallus, who successfully led a raid on an Imperial bunker, a vital part of bringing down the Death Star’s shields.

Kallus, who was tired and hurting, sore and limping after battling stormtroopers at close quarters.

Kal, who was worried about the _Ghost_.

Alexsandr, who prayed to the Ashla that Zeb would be waiting on the other side of the next tree.

He’d made his decision before they landed on the moon, so Kallus had seen no reason to hesitate. He’d stood out by the landing fields, watching for any sign of the _Ghost_ while other Rebels landed and joined the celebrations.

The _Ghost_ never landed.

He started grabbing random crewmembers and asking.

No one recalled seeing the _Ghost_ or the _Phantom II_ after the first part of the battle, after the Death Star began firing.

The only thing Kallus could think to do was to find Rex. Rex would have Hera and Zeb’s comlink information. Rex would know where they were.

Kallus needed to find Rex and know the clone was all right. Needed to know that he’d survive and would go on to hunt for his brothers. Needed to _know_ what Rex knew.

Needed to hear from a certain Spectre-Four, even if over comms.

“That kriffing lasat promised he’d survive. He _promised_ ,” Kallus muttered, only half to himself.

They’d _both_ promised.

_We broke every other promise already. Why couldn’t we have kept **just this one**?_

_Why didn’t I let him say he loved me? Why didn’t I say it back? He’s dead and I never let him know._

He’d been to the heart of the Ewok village twice already, climbing ladders and winding stairs despite his ever-more-obvious hobbling.

Kallus stood on a platform, angling to use the extra height to see better. He _had_ to find Rex. _Had_ to know what Zeb’s fate was. _Had_ to know what his own fate would be.

“Captain Kallus!” A light hand brushed his shoulder and Kallus turned sharply, blaster pulled and aimed before he knew what he was doing.

Wedge Antilles took a quick step back, holding his hands up.

“Antilles!” Kallus dropped his blaster. “Don’t sneak up on me.”

Wedge laughed nervously, fidgeting with his helmet. “Uh, someone told me you were looking for Rex. And the _Ghost_.”

“You saw her?” Kallus asked, forgetting all about Rex the moment the _Ghost_ was mentioned. He probably ought to have been more circumspect, but Wedge was not known for participating in Rebel gossip.

Wedge gave him an odd look, but answered. “Well, Rex is in the med tent. And the _Ghost -_ before the shield fell, before I had to advance with the _Falcon_ , she took a glancing hit from the Death Star. She made it though, and made it to a capital, the _Defiance_ , and docked.”

Kallus stared at Wedge for a minute, absorbing his words.

_If they docked, they made it on the capital ship. Probably both Hera and Zeb._

_Zeb’s alive!_

Kallus blinked, realizing Wedge was still watching him. Realizing that the young man before him had actually been instrumental to their victory, if what he’d heard from the other pilots was right. Realizing that Wedge should have been spending his time being congratulated rather than seeking out an Intelligence Captain.

“Thank you, Antilles,” Kallus said, forcing as much calm into his voice as possible. “You’d better get back to the party and brag about your flying skills. I’m sure even General Syndulla would be lauding you if she were here.”

Wedge gave him a thin grin. “It wasn’t much,” he said, looking away. “I just softened the reactor up. Lando struck the final blow.”

Wedge wasn’t the type to show false modesty, so Kallus took him at his word. He probably ought to stay and help celebrate the young man’s victory, as he’d watched out for Wedge since Skystrike, but…

Zeb.

Zeb was out there. Kallus just had to get to him.

Thankfully, even during what might possibly be the galaxy’s most raucous celebration, Kallus was still able to pull rank and requisition a shuttle to the _Defiance_.

He’d never been so grateful for an officer’s commission.

The shuttle, a small Mon Cala build with plenty of windows, soared through space, giving Kallus a good look at the remnants of the space battle.

His heart clenched every time they passed an empty husk of a ship, Rebel or Imperial. On a few, rescue efforts were ongoing; he could see medic ships docking with damaged freighters and capital ships.

“There she is, the _Defiance_ ,” said Kallus’s pilot, pointing at a large Mon Cala cruiser.

Kallus immediately started studying the ship’s hull, looking for a tell-tale hexagon.

He didn’t see it until they rounded the ship, approaching the main hangar from the far side.

The _Ghost_ was docked, but it wasn’t whole anymore. The site of the top turret had been turned to still-smoking slag.

Unable to breathe, Kallus stared as they neared the hangar. Zeb favored the top turret. What if he’d been–?

_I’m so close I can see them. But what if Zeb isn’t there? What if Hera’s all alone? Zeb might never have had a chance._

He chastised himself. He’d already been thinking Zeb was dead; why did the sight of the _Ghost_ make things worse?

_Because **knowing** he’s dead is different than **imagining** he’s dead._

Kallus was off the shuttle before the ramp finished lowering. He stopped only to inquire directions to the _Ghost_ ’s docking bay, running down the bright metallic halls. His shin screamed where he’d gotten hit by the thermal detonator shrapnel, but pain was nothing. Kallus could deal with pain when there was a greater goal at hand.

Flashes of color passed by him, crewmembers’ uniforms, crates, open doorways. Green and purple caught his eye, but only momentarily. He was in search of particular green and purple figures.

Skidding around the last corner, he slid to a stop just out of sight of the _Ghost_ , intending to gather his thoughts.

Thoughts were long gone, however, because he heard two voices yelling at each other.

Hera was barely comprehensible, but Zeb was loud and vociferous in his condemnation of the _Ghost_ ’s shield system.

“ _It’s patched as good as yer gonna get, Hera! I’m not doin’ more when they’re just gonna take it apart again at the repair docks.”_

That deep, gravelly voice, no matter how irritated, was the sweetest thing Kallus had ever heard. His legs wobbled, forcing him to grab onto the wall to keep his balance.

Sliding his fingers along the wall, ready to grab on again if necessary, Kallus approached, agape.

Zeb was so focused on the auxiliary shield controls in the hold that he didn’t seem to notice Kallus. The fur on his legs was singed, but he seemed to stand without pain. From a distance, Kallus couldn’t tell much else about his health.

That was all right. Zeb was hale enough to be standing and working and yelling.

As he reached the edge of the _Ghost_ ’s entryway, Kallus breathed Zeb’s name.

Zeb stopped and turned slowly, facing Kallus with wide eyes. “K–Kal?” 

As Zeb watched him, Kallus became aware of the image he must be presenting. He was exhausted and worn, his clothes blaster-scorched and ripped. His hair, flopping in his eyes, had seen better days.

There was no reason for Zeb to be looking at him _that_ way.

But then, wasn’t Kallus giving Zeb that same look? Despite the smell of charred fur, despite the disheveled look of Zeb’s armor, he wanted nothing more than to run and hold him, to be _sure_ of Zeb’s reality.

“Kal.”

“Zeb.”

They spoke each other’s names at the same time, relief and longing in their voices.

“Will the ship be all right?” Kallus asked.

“She will be,” Zeb said. “Your commandos do okay?”

“We mostly survived.” 

What else was there to say?

What would make Zeb happy, as he had promised Rex he wanted?

The truth. Zeb would want the truth.

“Zeb, I– I lied to you.”

Looking at him curiously, Zeb cocked his head. “What?”

“I’ve regretted it every second, even as I tried to justify it to myself,” Kallus said slowly, finding his feet as he went. “Yet I lied to you unashamedly. I know we promised that last night would change nothing, but that was my lie. I knew it would change everything because _I still love you._

“If you truly believe you loved me more than I loved you, so be it, but the love I _did_ feel for you has never stopped. You, and only you, have held my heart, such as it is, since the beginning.”

Zeb stared, jaw slack in disbelief. “Karabast, Kal… Why didn’t you say something?” He slowly closed up the shield controls, never taking his eyes off Kallus. “All you had to do was say that in the first place.”

Kallus laughed, a tad hysterically. “Zeb, you hated me! You didn’t want me around. I wasn’t going to force my presence upon you.”

“I hated what you were _doin’_ , not _you._ ” Facing Kallus but not taking a step forward, Zeb continued: “I wanted _Kal_ back, but all you were givin’ me was an Intelligence captain. I wanted _Alexsandr_ , the man I _loved_ , but you were buryin’ him.”

“I want to be Alexsandr again,” Kallus admitted in a small voice. “I’ve been miserable. I’ve been working for the sake of the Rebellion but Zeb, that’s not enough, not after you showed me what I was missing from my life.” 

“Is that really what you want?” Zeb almost sounded suspicious. “You’re still Intelligence. You’ve never stopped doin’ those things.”

Kallus’s face fell. “I had nothing else left, Zeb. I’ve been trying to complete each mission as it comes, without daring to look ahead and wonder what happened if all the missions succeeded. I never saw myself making it this far and now I don’t know what to do.” Casting about the hold for something to focus on that wasn’t Zeb, Kallus looked past him at the ladder. “If, at any point, you’d truly asked me to give up the Rebellion and choose you, I’d have left this all behind in a heartbeat.”

Zeb shook his head. “Didn’t I ask you to choose between me and Intelligence? Wasn’t that what started all this? You _didn’t_ choose me when you had the chance.”

“I…” Kallus trailed off. “I didn’t believe you _wanted_ me to choose you. I thought you were looking for an excuse to get away from me, so I gave it to you.”

“Bloody hells, Kal! I was begging for you to come back to me and you thought I was trying to push you away?” Zeb shook his head. “How did we make it as long as we did if we were _that_ bad at reading each other?”

“Zeb, I apologize, truly. I was an abysmal idiot and I ended the best thing I’d ever had.” Kallus hung his head, scraggly hair falling in his eyes. “But I’m completely serious now. I love you and I have all along. I understand if you don’t want to accept any of this but since we both survived this battle, I needed you to know. I’ll leave now; all you have to do is say the word.”

“Come here.”

Kallus’s gaze snapped back to Zeb. Those weren’t the words he’d been expecting. “What?” 

“I’ve never stopped loving you, either, even when you piss me off like no one’s business. Especially then.” Zeb almost smiled. “I want my Alexsandr back, so if you mean what you say, if you want to choose me, then _come here_.”

That was all it took. Kallus limped forward as fast as he could, enveloping the lasat in a hug, letting Zeb carry his weight for a moment. “I want you, Zeb. I don’t know who I am without you.”

“Then don’t you dare pull shit like that ever again,” Zeb said, voice thickening as he gripped Kallus tightly to him. “Listen to me, will ya?”

Kallus nodded, face buried deep enough in Zeb’s chest he could smell lasat through the jumpsuit.

Zeb leaned his face against Kallus’s head and took a deep breath. Kallus heard him gasp, let out a small “Oh!”

A chill ran through Kallus. Was Zeb changing his mind?

Apparently not. Zeb buried his face deeper into Kallus’s hair. “You– you smell like a forest, Kal.”

_Of course I do, I’ve been on a forest moon for the last twenty hours._ Kallus knew that wasn’t what Zeb meant, however. There was only one forest planet that mattered in the end. “Lasan,” he said softly.

Zeb gasped, nodding, and Kallus felt tears wetting his hair.

Zeb wasn’t a crier. Outside of the losses of Kanan and Ezra, Kallus didn’t think he’d ever seen the lasat truly cry. Become misty-eyed, maybe. But letting out actual tears? _Kallus_ was more demonstrative than Zeb.

Here they were, however, in the hold of the _Ghost_ , survivors of a battle that might have determined galactic history, clinging to each other while Zeb cried. The moment Zeb fell to his knees, bringing Kallus with him, was the moment Kallus lost his composure, too.

Claws dug into his back and Kallus knew he’d have red stripes when they parted, but he didn’t mind. They were simply marks proving he’d been held by his love again. He wept freely at the thought, at the warmth and softness enveloping him. Kallus wrapped his hands behind Zeb’s neck, curling his fingers in the fur, and pulled the lasat to him. 

Their kiss was so unlike the ones from the night before. Kallus didn’t try to throw up walls to protect himself, to pretend that it didn’t matter.

The kiss mattered. It all mattered. _Zeb_ mattered.

“I’m so sorry,” Kallus choked out. “I’m so sorry I ever hurt you, in any way. You deserved so much more than I gave you.”

For a moment, he thought Zeb would call him on his horrible mawkishness, but he was just hugged tighter. Kallus clung to Zeb, eyes shut against everything else in the galaxy.

“Let’s leave,” Zeb said suddenly.

“I’m fine with taking this to your cabin.”

Zeb shook his head. “No. Let’s _leave_. All of this. The war, the Rebellion, stars, the galaxy as a whole. Kal, the Emperor is dead! There’s not much left to do; we can leave it to the kids. We’ve fought long enough.”

Kallus blinked and pulled back to look at Zeb. “Actually leave? Zeb, where would we go? Neither of us have a home to go back to.” _My only home is you,_ Kallus thought, biting his lip to keep from saying something so foolishly sentimental out loud.

Zeb barely hesitated in his answer. “So let’s make one. Together.”

“ _Where_?” Kallus repeated. He couldn’t think of a world he’d been to that would want him back.

“I know a place,” Zeb said. “Quiet. Out of the way. I think you’ll like it.”

Kallus had just enough time to wonder _where in the galaxy is Zeb talking about_ before they were interrupted.

A binary whistle sounded from above, a high pitched whine followed by a rude blat.

“Chop’s right, Zeb,” said Hera from the platform above them. “You seem to have forgotten your work.”

“Karabast, Hera, can’t you tell I’m busy?” grumbled Zeb as he pulled away from Kallus, though he refused to let go of Kallus’s hands.

“Oh, I can, and while I’m happy to see you two reconcile, I’m a little more concerned about the _giant hole in the hull of my ship_.”

“I told you, the shield’ll hold long enough,” Zeb said.

“And _I_ told _you_ I wanted better. We were lucky enough that you got out of the turret in time, I don’t want to push it.” She crossed her arms. “Chopper can make sure Kallus doesn’t run away again if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Kallus felt his cheeks burn. He wanted to protest, but he really had no defense. He _had_ run away that morning. He squeezed Zeb’s hands. “You have work. I interrupted. Go.”

“What you said was more important,” Zeb said back, just loud enough for the two of them. Sighing, he looked over his shoulder at Hera. “Fine. I’m going. But Kal is helping me.”

Before Kallus could point out he really had no clue how to repair a hull breach, Hera shook her head. “No, Kallus is staying with me.” Her tone of voice brooked no argument.

Zeb let go and made his way deeper into the ship, muttering. Kallus stood there, watching Hera.

“Well, come on,” she said. “I need to talk to you, Captain.”

The use of his rank by the usually-casual Hera was surprising. Not wanting to make her wait, Kallus hauled himself up the hold’s ladder, ignoring the shooting pain in his leg.

Hera led the way into the cockpit, shutting the door once both Chopper and Kallus were inside. She leaned against the control panel, watching Kallus closely. “Kallus, you realize it’s been three years?”

_Of course I do. How could I not?_ “I–”

“No, Captain, you’re not talking. I am.” 

Eyes widening, Kallus instinctively straightened up. Hera was using her command voice, the one she saved for briefings and talking to recalcitrant recruits.

She leaned forward. “For three years, Zeb has been hurting, because of you. For three years, the rest of us have had to pick up the pieces you left behind. I will _not_ have you hurting him again.”

Kallus nodded. He should have expected nothing less.

“I don’t care if you two stay with the Rebellion or if you run off together. If I get word you’ve made him the slightest bit unhappy – if he stubs his _toe_ and you aren’t there to comfort him – then I _will_ kill you.”

Next to her, Chopper shot out one of his arms. To Kallus’s alarm, it was his buzz saw, spinning menacingly.

Hera smiled grimly. “Do you understand me, Captain? You may speak now.”

“Yes, sir,” Kallus said quickly, reverting to military protocol to be on the safe side.

Holding his gaze, Hera nodded. “Good. I don’t want there to be any misunderstandings between us. I would be happy to welcome you back into our crew, Captain, but Zeb is _family_ and almost all that I have left. I will _not_ let you hurt him again. He’s been through too much. _You’ve_ put him through too much, from Lasan to trying to kill us to breaking his heart. That ends here and now. Do I make myself clear?”

_I have no intentions of hurting Zeb ever again_ , Kallus thought. _I **need** him._ But that wasn’t what Hera wanted to hear. 

He snapped off a salute, as militarily proper as he could manage. “Yes, General Syndulla.”

Hera smiled, transforming into a completely different person. She took a step forward and patted Kallus on the arm. “Then welcome back, Kallus. You’ve been missed.”

She pushed past him and left the cockpit, leaving Kallus reeling for a moment. Once it became clear Hera wasn’t returning and Chopper wasn’t going to be maiming him just yet, Kallus carefully made his way to the top turret – or the ladder leading to the hole where the top turret used to be.

He leaned against the cold metal ladder. “Did I hear Hera right? You were up there when it got hit?”

Zeb grunted, grinning down at him as he worked on sealing off the breach. “Well, the Death Star shot kinda slow. I had time to move.”

“Karabast, Zeb.”

A smile. “You still say that?”

Kallus cautiously returned Zeb’s smile. “I do,” he confirmed. “I never quit.”

“Ah, good to know I rubbed off on ya,” Zeb joked, gesturing to Kallus with the spanner he was holding. He winked. “In more ways than one.”

Kallus blushed again. “Garazeb…”

Zeb repositioned himself so he was hanging out of the ladder hole, looking at Kallus. He reached out a hand, ruffling Kallus’s hair. “You knew when you walked back onto the _Ghost_ the kind of jokes I make.”

“I did,” Kallus said. “And I love you anyway.”

Zeb grinned indulgently. “An’ that’s my Kal. Smart and thinks he’s witty.”

Shaking his head, Kallus tried to calculate if he could reach Zeb for another kiss. If he stood on his toes, maybe… “Did you really mean it?” he asked instead. “Do you really have a place for us to escape to?”

Zeb’s expression turned serious. “I do. It’s where I’ve been taking all the refugees from Lasan.”

Kallus’s eyes widened. “You wouldn’t even tell General Cracken where that was. Now you want to tell _me_?”

“I didn’t tell anyone but Hera ‘n Rex. Safer that way. But you? I want to take you there, show you how wonderful it is. Settle down and never think of war again.”

_Nothing_ in Kallus’s life had ever sounded more enticing than a peaceful life with Zeb. “I want to go there with you,” he whispered back. “I’ll resign my commission today if you want to leave.”

Zeb chuckled. “Let’s get the _Ghost_ put back together and Hera and Rex on their way and then we’ll go. Don’t want to leave an angry Hera behind.”

Kallus nodded, thinking of Hera’s threats just a few moments before. “Zeb?” he asked. “Are you sure? Are you sure you want me back after what I did to you? Are you sure you want to ask me to make a home with you? Are you sure you want to trust me again?”

Frowning, Zeb flipped and climbed down the ladder, taking Kallus’s face in his hands. “I told you I love you, didn’t I?”

“Love doesn’t infer or require trust,” Kallus pointed out.

“It does for me,” Zeb affirmed. “Alexsandr, I love you. I wouldn’t have asked you to follow me when I leave if I didn’t want you to follow. I wouldn’t offer to show you my greatest secret if I didn’t trust you. You’re a bastard and you lied about how you felt, but you’re back to bein’ honorable. When you get away from that karking Intelligence service, you’ll see that too.”

Kallus leaned in, touching foreheads. “Zeb, I don’t deserve you.”

“Maybe,” Zeb said. “But who really deserves anything? You’ve got me and I’ve got you. And we’ve got a free galaxy to explore.”

In lieu of answering, Kallus pressed a gentle kiss to Zeb’s lips, basking in the feelings of love and safety he’d convinced himself he’d never feel again. “We do,” he murmured. “Together.”

Zeb kissed him again, more fervently, and Kallus knew that no matter where they were, what planet or ship they were on, he’d found his way back home.


End file.
